


The Shapes Dreams Leave Behind

by andthesunranon



Category: Kpop - Fandom, ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fantasy, Highschool AU, How Do I Tag, Hwanwoong is a mess, Insomnia, Moon, kpop, mythology inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthesunranon/pseuds/andthesunranon
Summary: He knows when you are sleepingHe knows when you're awakeHe lives inside your mirrorHis human face is fakeOrHwanwoong has been unable to sleep for months, restlessness settling in as soon as the moon rises. He normally finds some comfort in the soft light, but now it falls on his mirror in ways that form strange shadows and silhouettes, and he watches as a figure appears on the other side of the glass. This must all be just a hallucination, right?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Black Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I normally share the playlist I write to for my fics incase anyone wants something to listen to so-  
> First song! : Turn it Up, Rainz 
> 
> ((cause this was originally (like 2 years ago) going to be a Rainz fic and the only chapter I ever wrote was written to this lol))

Hwanwoong pushes himself away from his desk, rubbing his eyes as his chair spins away from the glaring blue light of his computer. Thin white drapes flutter around the edges of his open window, a chill breeze stirring the cloth as it circles into the room. The cold keeps him awake, but he can’t stand the darkness. He can’t remember the last time his room wasn’t flooded with moonlight as soon as evening came. 

Hwanwoong draws sheets up to his chin, twisting himself into a cocoon of blankets. A pale moon glows brightly in the midnight sky and casts its bluish shade onto the edge of his bed- he stares at the spectre until it starts losing shape and meaning, willing his eyes to grow heavy. Regardless, the glow shifts from blue to white and fades, the moon moving across the sky as he tosses and turns, sleep creeping slowly out of his grasp. He curses. His head still aches, his limbs weak and leaden, from lack of sleep the nights before, but as soon as evening came tiredness left him as if it had never set in, new found energy bouncing inside his skull. Hwanwoong sits up.

Instinctively, a hand goes to his throat, where a chain hangs. He feels the sharp metal of the cold moon charm and breathes deeply, willing his brain to stop its whirring. He’s always had a fast, busy mind, but recently he thinks it’s getting worse- his usual fluid thoughts and feelings elevated into a kind of constant restlessness, even in the brightness of the day. Its been harder to turn off, this last month. His sleep schedule is unhealthy at the best of times- now, he’s lucky to sleep at all.

Huffing, Hwanwoong rises, treading to the bathroom attached to his room. He splashes cold water on his face, staring at the dark circles below his eyes in the dim reflection the mirror offers. His shirt hangs off his small frame, his blonde hair ruffled messily over his forehead. He grumbles again, pushing himself away from the sink, but stops short. The bathroom door creaks open slightly in the breeze, and dusty moonlight has slipped into the room, reaching up Hwanwoong’s legs in a way that makes his skin crawl. He gulps, feeling it anchor him in place as if it was weighted. With a hand at his chain, Hwanwoong pushes the door further open. Moonlight spills over the sink, the cabinets that surround it, the shaking boy stood before them. The temperature seems to dip suddenly, and Hwanwoong shivers. His eyes flick to the mirror- it holds just as many shadows as it had a second before, when the room was in darkness. His reflection stares back at him, faint and wide-eyed. But something else catches the light: along the side of the mirror, thin slices in the glass trap the white beams, glinting like silver threads, cutting neat rows from where the mirror stretches from the sink to the ceiling. Hwanwoong frowns- they had not been there before. He grips the necklace tighter, and feels the crescent bite into his flesh. The cuts in the mirror glint. 

Gulping, Hwanwoong steps towards it again, trying not to stare hard into its shadows that curl and bleed, like ink or smoke, now that he’s closer. Hwanwoong holds the necklace out, watching as the tip of the crescent moon slips easily into the closest slit. There are around 20, he thinks, and all are the size of the charm. Without understanding why, Hwanwoong’s hand moves to the side, trailing the moon to the edge of the previous marks. The glass provides less resistance than he was expecting; the chain is sharper and more willing. The slash glows as if it’s burning, catching the light through the ajar door in a way that shines, beams turned into glitter just under the looking glass’ surface. Hwanwoong’s breath catches in his throat. The other scars ignite, just as pain sears through his head. 

Hwanwoong doubles over, clutching the edge of the sink, and so misses when the shadows first start to shift. He only sees the movement when the blackness near where his head rests stirs, twisting away like smoke. Slowly, his heart frantic inside his chest, Hwanwoong pushes away from the sink.

The darkness in the mirror’s center has all but disappeared- the surface is now so blank and pale it hurts his eyes, but for wisps of dark smoke that dance behind the glass. And then, from the centre, a new shape emerges. It is large, undefined and grey, but Hwanwoong can see what it is before it breaks free from the fog. A man- or something like a man- stands on the other side of the mirror, towering over him with a watchful gaze. Nothing immediately strikes Hwanwoong as abnormal or out of place, but there is a strange, inhuman quality to the figure that sends shivers down his spine.  
Like everything else tonight, the man is painted in stark contrasts of black and white. Deathly pale skin stands out against the inky hair which falls over his forehead, slightly covering his eyes. It’s not quite black, even in the shadows of the mirror- something of it reflects light, and holds more depth than black ever could. Hwanwoong squints against the water dripping from his damp hair. The figure’s lips stretch, thin and wide like a cat’s; wicked grey eyes flare. It’s hard to look at those eyes, as if some distant part of Hwanwoong’s mind warns against it. His eyes settle instead on the tiny marks beneath the figure’s left eye, faint at first among the dim and smoke. They aren’t unlike the marks along the mirror, thin scratches in a neat line, but so black they seem to cut through the man’s face completely, so Hwanwoong can see the dark sky through them.

The figure dips its head to the side languidly. It says something, but no sound reaches into the room, and Hwanwoong stands frozen, watching as the grin turns to a frown. It speaks again, its eyes locked on Hwanwoong’s. A thin, pale hand reaches through the fog, beckoning. Hwanwoong steps closer, pressing a palm against the frozen glass. His head erupts with pain, white hot behind his eyes, bleaching the world of colour. Images flash quickly through his skull, too fast to take full form- two towering arches in complete darkness, one bone white, the other scorched brown; the vague outlines of two heads; a field of glowing flowers under a black sky; a flash of brilliant blue.

Hwanwoong jolts upright, the world crashing over him in a thundering torrent. His hands grip bed sheets, his breath fast and harsh as panic spikes through his body. His eyes swivel wildly around the room, but can’t see anything. The room is in complete darkness- no moonlight shines through his open window. Hwanwoong shivers, running a hand through his hair (its dry, a distant part of his brain registers) and kneeling on his mattress to pull the window closed. He settles again, focusing on the blankets pulled around his shoulder to calm his mind and heart that race. He has all but fell asleep, his eyelids drooping at last, when a car rushes by in the street below. A headlight dashes across his bedroom, and just for a second he can see the space. His bathroom door lies open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is just the start of a series, and it's been a while since I wrote fanfic so I'm a little rusty eek.  
> The plot will start unfolding soon, I hope this wasn't too boring
> 
> .


	2. Space To Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist song 2: Your Favourite Song- Jeong Sewoon  
> (a little random, but amazing)

“Wait!”

Hwanwoong rushes towards the school gate, stooping to catch his breath as the teacher holding the gate open frowns at him in disapproval. He apologises amidst puffs of air.  


The middle aged man snaps the gate closed, shaking his head obnoxiously as he draws out syllables snidely: “Late as usual. Get to class, quickly. It’s already started as you strolled to school”  


Hwanwoong bites his tongue and walks away, feeling the traces of a headache darkening his mood. The painkillers he had forced down his throat as soon as he woke to the usual ache had only slightly alleviated it, and smoke and mirrors still dance behind his eyes, tauntingly, where the pain hangs.  


His art teacher has more pity, simply looking him over quickly and nodding to his empty desk with a click of her tongue. Hwanwoong drops into his spot at the back of the room, leaning gratefully on the creaking wooden surface covered in dark splashes and slashing from countless pencils and blades. He drags a finger across the short lines. The metal moon presses against his chest and he starts. He takes out his sketchbook and tears wildly at the pages until they cover the marked wood completely. His breath comes a little easier after that.

Another hour and he’s dragging himself out of the door, his rapid thoughts lost under the sea of noisy students flowing through the corridors. His feet carry him forward without his bidding, and before he notices the sea has parted, and he’s alone in the quiet sections of the school that surround its entrance. A student or two leans against office doors at his sides, waiting to be let in, but no one walks through this part of the building so early in the day. Hwanwoong reaches the end of the corridor. The silence makes it easy to notice the panic on the air- it buzzes and contractes, as if it’s alive.

Hwanwoong presses his ear to the divide he stands against, feeling the cold metal of the cafeteria’s lowered partition ghost near his cheek. There’s muffled noises from the other side, quick and quiet. They grow slightly louder and Hwanwoong glances around the reception. No one looks his way as he sidesteps, pushing himself through a door to his right, and turning into the closed cafeteria. There are no staff members yet, and Hwanwoong offers the camera stuck into the corner of the ceiling only a passing glance- he’s snuck out of class so many times, he knows they’re never actually used. A whimper sounds in front of him.

Low down the wall to his left, a student curls up against the lowered partition. Wide eyes blink up at him. Tears have gathered in their sides, and the boy quickly drops his head back onto his arms, hiding his face. Even without the dazed look, though, Hwanwoong can see the harsh in and out of his chest, far too fast to be natural. Hwanwoong treads forward slowly, holding his arms up in front of him. He whispers soft “It’s okay”s as he lowers himself near the student, but they feel hollow on his tongue, and he instead presses a hand on his shoulder. When there’s no response, he glides it up and down the boy’s arm, and smiles a little as he feels the boy press back against the touch. Little by little, the tension leaves his frame, and eventually the only shaking in his limbs comes from the last few ragged breaths he uses to calm his sobs.

“Ugh,” the boy grunts, wiping his wide eyes with his hand. He sniffs loudly, his eyes finding Hwanwoong’s bashfully. They flicker away from the small smile they find, but his lips twitch, too, and a thick, warm voice laughs as he says “I’m sorry.” 

Hwanwoong hits his arm, and drops to a proper sitting position so his back is against metal. “Don’t be silly. Do you feel alright?”

The boy nods quickly, grinning wider now. His smile is wide and shining, radiating the same energy as those bright, wide eyes. He looks tall, even curled up like this, an awkward twist of limbs. “Thank you.”

Hwanwoong flattens a tuft of fair, almost-gold hair that sticks up at an odd angle. The boy laughs again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m Hwanwoong.”

“Keonhee,” the boy waves, “I’m pretty new here.”

“Ah. It’s that what-” 

Keonhee waves away Hwanwoong’s confused gesture. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell sometimes. But, aren’t you late for class?”

“Ha. I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s not really out of character.”

“Oh?” Keonhee squints his eyes comically, raising his chin to look down at Hwanwoong. “You don’t look like the bad boy type.”

Hwanwoong huffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not.” Keonhee doesn’t press him for details, just nods and looks away, but there’s still that quirk to his brow, and Hwanwoong feels it’s only fair after what he just walked in on. Besides, there’s a kind of comfort in the air between them that works against his usual reserve. “I don’t sleep well, or, I haven’t for a while.” Keonhee’s wide-eyed stare grows sadder, his lips bunching cutely. Hwanwoong shrugs “And my next subject is PE, so really, you’re doing me a favour.”

“I see” Keonhee grins. He does that a lot, Hwanwoong notices. Keonhee shrugs his blazer off, pushing the white sleeves of his school shirt up to his elbows. “Wanna leave?”

“L-leave?”

“Yeah. I’m not really up for going back to class and staring at diagrams of rock erosure right now.”

Hwanwoong suddenly feels the weight of the moon around his neck, the tremor in his hands. He has to admit, sitting through another class isn’t really what he wants now either, when his eyes are still burning and the nightmare’s still caught in his mind. He casts a quick glance over Keonhee as the stranger rises, and at the clock across from him. Keonhee pouts questioningly.

“Sure,” Hwanwoong stands, wiping off his trouser, “I could use some air.”

He walks with Keonhee out into the sun, the clouds of that morning suddenly parted. Keonhee has recovered quickly, and seems to contain mounds of surplus energy now he has his breath back that Hwanwoong can’t help but be jealous of. He talks happily about everything he can think of- asking Hwanwoong about his subjects, the music he likes, the films, the places in town he goes most often. Hwanwoong soon falls into his happy rhythm, kicking lazily through the grass as they make circles of the school field. Eventually they ditch the pretence that they might go back, and Hwanwoong leads them through streets of flats and parks until they reach the quiet, grey highstreet.

“It’s not much,” Hwanwoong says, “actually, it’s always depressed me a little, but there’s not much else around here.”

Keonhee looks around and shrugs. “Its not that different from the last town.” 

Hwanwoong leaves him on the street as he disappears into one of the nicer looking coffee shops, and reappears with iced drinks dripping onto the pavement. They sit on the curb and ignore the chill as they drink, the weather not quite sunny enough to be comfortable, pretending it’s all routine, like they’ve been doing it for years. Eventually, the day grows darker, and Keonhee glances at the time on his phone.

“My parents will be expecting me about now, I should probably head back.”

Hwanwoong smiles as Keonhee stands awkwardly at the side of the street. “You can make your way from here, right?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Keonhee grins. “If I get lost I’ll just scream really, really loudly until you come rescue me again.”

“Ok,” Hwanwoong laughs. “See you..”

“See you soon, Hwanwoong.”

Hwanwoong waits until he loses sight of Keonhee’s bright smile until he turns and heads back through school grounds to his own house. His body doesn’t feel as heavy as usual as he drags it up flights and flights of stairs, and as soon as he crawls into his flat the silence waiting for him is broken by a twinkling noise from his phone. It’s Keonhee, who has somehow already found every possible way to contact him. Hwanwoong smiles at the lit up screen, and the message that appears at the top:

Thanks for your help today, normally I’m alone for that. See you on monday ;) Keonhee.

He taps out a quick reply and throws his phone on his desk. He doesn’t even glance at the mirror as he makes his way to the shower, and by the time he falls into bed that night, he’s all but forgotten the distress of the one before. The nightmare- because he’s sure by now that that’s all it was- is pushed to the back of his mind, clearer now after a day thinking of other things. But, though sleep finds him easier than normal that night, it’s not the only thing that finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I plan to update this at least once a week, but right now I'm in my last week of school and have deadlines, so hopefully after that I can be faster :)


	3. Forgetfulness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: ATEEZ- Wonderland  
> (G)I-DLE- Oh My God

There’s a shape standing in the shadows at the end of his bed. It disappears in a flutter of blankets as Hwanwoong kicks them off, sitting bolt upright. He scrambles for his phone on the table by his bed- the bright white of the flashlight shines on the opposite wall, showing nothing. Hwanwoong puts a hand against his chest, and ignores the darkness his feet seep into when he lowers them. With soft, careful steps, he pads across his room. His hand stops on the bathroom door handle, like its ice has fused with his skin.

But..

_It’s worse to wait in the dark, blind and fumbling, paranoid at every shift of light or temperature, shivers crawling up and down your flesh_

so he moves. Hwanwoong throws the door open, catching it just before it can crash against the wall. Breaking the silence somehow seems like the worst thing to do, even as a voice in his head curses him for his cowardice.

_It was a dream, Hwanwoong. You’ve always been jumpy in the dark. Go back to bed._

But the bathroom is open to him now, and his eyes are already fixed on the mirror. The flashlight scrapes silver into its scars; the flat face of it is lit a dozen shades of grey. Then, the metal shifts. The silver pools and runs as if it has liquified, molten and moving behind a glass casing. Hwanwoong can see his reflection in it, how it shudders and fades with the tides. A ripple winks across the glass, and suddenly he becomes aware that his face is not the only one.

Among the ebb and flow there’s a singular still shape: the dark outline of a man. There are no features, no colours, it’s all kept from him by the distance and glass. It sends the same sparks all over his body, quivering to life, though. The moon on his chest burns white hot. He yells as he plucks it quickly from his skin, staring open-mouthed at the red crescent it leaves just below his collarbone.

Hwanwoong looks back up at the mirror, and presses the charm deep into its giving surface.

Cold washes over him, and the light cuts out.

The first thing he’s aware of is how his shirt clings to him, twisted around his frame. It takes another few seconds for him to recognise the cause- there’s water splashing at his chest, dragging the fabric down so he feels its weight. He’s not struggling with consciousness, as he had suspected, it’s just so dark that his eyes open and close uselessly. His arm splashes through the water, and the riot of sound is thrown back at him in a chaos of echoes. He starts, but then there’s a pressure around his arm, and something is pulling him from the water.

He’s dragged a pace or two from its edge, feeling soft ground beneath him as he writhes and kicks, and then dropped. He splutters- though there’s no water in his lungs- and runs his hands wildly over his body. Its still the same shirt, he can see now in the slight glow that shows its ghostly shade, white and flowing. Dry. His hands glide through soft, messy waves of blonde hair. The hands he brings close to his face show not a single water drop as he peers at them.

The darkness has retreated a shade, and there’s enough light here for Hwanwoong to see he’s in a cave. The ceiling stretches up and up, invisible in the inky sky, but he can see the uneven rock of a cavern wall to his side, and feel it in the dead, still air. There’s no strong smell, just the slight bite of water, and something softer under it, like flowers from far away, or long crushed between journal pages. A pace away, Hwanwoong can just see the edges of dark boots. The man from the mirror towers over him.

His clothes are so dark they almost blend into the dim, but his hair is the same brown-grey shade that Hwanwoong saw a night ago. It glints in the little light, metallic and ruffled in waves over his forehead. His eyes are different here, though, the grey less shallow, a pale green or blue, hard to place in his dark gaze. He’s smirking again, but his eyes are blown a little too wide to look calm.

Hwanwoong scrambles to his feet, tiny stones scrapping beneath his hands. The man steps forward quickly and he holds them out, shrinking away.

“Where am I,” Hwanwoong stammers, and then louder, when the feline grin grows, “Who are you?”

“I’m not going to hurt y-”

“Where am I” Hwanwoong yells. His voice shatters against the walls of the cave, replaying like a record that’s stuck.

“Nowhere you haven’t been before” the voice is deep and drawling, husky in a way that makes his ears strain to hear it. The man holds his arms out wide, as if to show both that he will move no closer and to gesture around himself.

Hwanwoong is about to ask more, when the stranger’s eyes move to a spot just behind him. Pebbles fly in all directions as he turns.

Crouching by the water a few feet away is another man, staring straight at Hwanwoong. His hair is a shock of blue, vibrant against the blackness, and even from here Hwanwoong can see the odd hue of his eyes- green, glowing. His gaze is harder to read than the other man’s, strange and wild, and there’s something in it that fills Hwanwoong’s head with thoughts of poison, the emerald of ivory and hemlock. He straightens and Hwanwoong lurches backwards subconsciously- huge wings sprout from the back of his white dress shirt, scraping the earth with leathery sinew.

A hand steadies Hwanwoong at his lower back and he jolts, pushing it away. The man from the mirror looks down at him, expressionless. He’s close enough that Hwanwoong can see the dark marks under one eye that he’d mistaken for scars- they’re letters, pitch black against pale skin.

_NYX_

The man’s eyes flick across Hwanwoong’s face, freezing when at last they find his eyes. Hwanwoong stands frozen, uncertainty pooling in his stomach. A disorientating chill runs over it, as if he had just gone inside after the heat of a summer’s day, ghosts of the sun lingering on his skin. The man is so close Hwanwoong can see his chest move in and out, faltering.

“This is earlier than expected” he breathes. His gaze drops again, stopping where Hwanwoong grips his chain tightly.

Hwanwoong gulps and steps away, putting distance between himself and both men, keeping them in his sight as he steps further from the river- with his eyes adjusted, he can see ground on the other side, no more than a few meters away. The winged man’s eyes watch him from his unmoving, slender frame.

_It’s just a dream Hwanwoong, find your way out._

“Where am I, and who are you” Hwanwoong tries again, unable to keep the panic from his voice.

The men share a wordless glance. “Perhaps you should meet all of us first.”

“There are more of you?”

The dark man doesn’t answer him, just holds his gaze as he turns and strides away. He stands straight, his head high, his movements easy and graceful. The blue-haired man stares at Hwanwoong. He pushes himself after the first, unable to ignore the lurch in his chest as he feels the slender man follow close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3  
> .


	4. Dream Shapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: The Neighbourhood- W.D.Y.W.F.M & Reflections  
>  TXT- Can't You See Me?

They stop after only a minute’s walk, the size of the cave imperceptible in the dark. A long, wooden table lies before them, glass plates and jars scattered over its silken, midnight cloth. Behind it the cave wall juts out into a smaller cave opening, just visible from this distant, surrounded in plashes of vibrant colour- red and violet, burning orange, blue. Flowers completely cover the rock, bright enough to look like they glow, fluttering slightly and bleeding into the grass that grows here. There are poppies and mushrooms, Hwanwoong can see, but there are countless other species whose names escape him. From somewhere out of sight, he can hear more water, moving faster than the still river they’ve left behind.

The dark man lowers himself into a seat at the head of the table, and the other drops quickly at his side, spinning his chair to the side. The black outline of wings hang behind him, threatening. Hwanwoong hesitates in front of the seat opposite him, hands gripping the twisting ebony weaving in delicate patterns of leaves and branches. Everything is silent for a beat. Suddenly, someone appears across from him.

The man at the end waves a hand and he sits, seemingly unsurprised by Hwanwoong lingering across the table. His eyes barely leave the tablecloth, but it’s brighter here in the glow of the flowers, and Hwanwoong can see he’s just as curious as the other two, even if he’s less colourful. His hair catches his attention first- short and spiked, just black, but its colour is so solid, so devoid of light, that Hwanwoong almost thinks it would stain his fingertips if he were to reach out and touch it, like charcoal. His eyes flare with a different fire, not yet burnt out, a gradient of deep orange and red. His shirt is fitted and black, the same formal style the other two wear, but without the flair of the winged man’s clothes, without the jacket and low neckline of the dark man.

Hwanwoong glances at the latter, waiting at the head of the table, the silence unbroken. A hand gestures for him to sit, and so he does, watching as pink lips stretch slightly at the movement. Hwanwoong gulps thickly.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never been here before. There must be some mistake.”

“Who do you think you are?” the blue man chimes, sharp green eyes glancing up from where he plays with a set of silver cutlery. His nails are sharp and long, like talons.

Hwanwoong frowns, and turns away from the confusing challenge in his gaze. “That.. I have no memory of- wherever I am.”

The dark man shakes his head. “Morpheus doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Mor-” Hwanwoong stutters. He tries again, but the word gets stuck in his throat, the sound dying on his tongue.

The blue haired man he’s looking at leans forward, scrunching his face up as he whispers “Names don’t work like that here.”

“And where is here?”

“My realm,” the dark man gestures around them grandly. He softens a little, and explains in that low, husky voice. “Names hold power in this place, real ones aren’t easily spoken.”

“Why would you use our names when you don’t even know your own” Morpheus mumbles, pouring more crimson liquid into his glass from a large crystal jug.

Hwanwoong scowls again, glaring at him as he barks “Hwanwoong.”

Small sounds of laughter come from the two men closest to him. The red eyed one stays silent.

“No, you’ll be able to use that one.”

He feels like he’s being ridiculed, but for what he can’t say. It’s forgotten as some old piece of knowledge jumps to the front of his brain. “Mor-” he huffs irritably, “Your name. The god of dreams?” Blank stares are all he’s met with, Morpheus’s red stained lips stretching into a gummy smile, his eyes pushed into crescent moons. It doesn’t make him look nicer. “This is all a dream, isn’t it?”

Morpheus pouts “I thought you couldn’t sleep?”

“I guess that’s your fault then, is it, asshole?”

Hwangwoong wonders at how steady and quick his voice is- even as the huge leathery wings start to unfold. Morpheus’s eyes have darkened, and Hwanwoong watches as the blue shade bleaches from his hair, replaced with a deep, coppery red that shakes into place at once, as if blooming. There’s a clatter as he drops his cutlery, rising with a lurch.

A hand on his chest pushes him back down into his seat.

“You can call him Seoho,” the dark man says calmly. Seoho downs his drink and huffs, stabbing at whatever’s on his plate- its pale and sinewy like meat, but hard to place in the blackness- with a sharp knife. “But I’m afraid the lack of sleep may be my fault, Seoho only works with dreams. I’m Ravn, and this is Leedo.”

He doesn’t need to say them to know these names aren’t real, they hang awkwardly in the air. The black haired man doesn’t meet his eyes. Hwanwoong’s frustration spikes, as his gaze falls in front of him again.

“Why can’t I see what he’s eating” he mutters, squinting at the blurry shreds Seoho is dropping into his mouth. He throws his head to the side. The red of Leedo’s eyes flash.

_Illusions and dreams. Nothing more._

Hwanwoong huffs under his breath. “Ok, so what do you do?”

Ravn grins a little. “I’m not like them.”

“ _Them_?”

“Somnias. Dream shapes.”

“But this is your fault?”

Ravn falters with a frown. ”It’s just-” he pauses, and pale, shadowed eyes dart between Hwanwoong’s a few times before meeting the table with a small, unreadable smile “-if you slept, you’d be too easy for me to find.”

Hwanwoong’s stomach lurches. For a moment, no one moves.

“Why were you trying to find me?” When he gets no answer but careful looks and silence, he pushes himself out of his seat, looking down at Ravn. His hand hovers at his side, near enough to the table to reach his set of silver cutlery. Just in case. “What should I remember?”

Ravn’s eyes are unguarded this time, and the sadness they hold is so visible that Hwanwoong’s heart lurches. “Me, my love.”

Heat washes over Hwanwoong, and the scene falls away. He wakes on the bathroom floor this time, his face pressed against cold tiles. He rushes to the sink just as his stomach turns violently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	5. Pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Playlist-  
> We Must Love- ONF  
> Black Swan- BTS  
> 911- Ellise

Hwanwoong stares blankly at the insides of his fridge: a bottle of apple juice on the inside of the door, a few stray vegetables that look like they’ve been there for too long shoved into a drawer. He slams it shut and grabs another bag of gummies from a cupboard. The sugar stings his tongue as he throws himself back down on the sofa pushed against his apartment wall- the tiny table in front of him is littered with boxes and mugs, all partly full of murky or vibrant liquids. Hwanwoong had abandoned the usual teas a few hours ago, after it became clear sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, but the heady scent of lavender still hangs in the air. He drops more gummies into his mouth, and closes his eyes. There’s the usual sick feeling in his stomach, the waves of hot and cold over his head, but he bites it down, willing the buzz to kick in. 

It’s nearing noon, the light seering through his eyelids tells him. He’d thrown the curtains wide some time in the early morning, when the shadows had started to whisper, and his room is flooded with light, harshly illuminating the messy table, the unmade bed, the bathroom door he’d made sure was shut. He sighs, and pulls his computer back onto his lap. He blinks a few times at the cluster of tabs, but they offer nothing new. It wasn’t as if he’s been expecting enlightenment anyway, it was more for something to do, something other than himself to focus on for a while.

Morpheus had been the easiest place to start, but also the least useful. 

_ God of dreams. Winged. Appears in dreams in human guise _ .

He knew all of that already. The fake names he’d been given- Ravn, Seoho, Leedo- brought up nothing, as expected. Nyx means night, he'd learned, though that that too didn't shed much light. Even if that is what the odd marks spelled, Nyx is the name of a goddess, far older than Morpheus, that bears no resemblance to the man from the mirror. The word feels unfamiliar. Something about it doesn't seem to match.

Hwanwoong’s phone buzzes loudly.  He snaps the computer shut. 

Hwanwoong huffs and runs a hand over his face, feeling foolish.

_What am I thinking? Half of what they said- no, all of it- was nonsense. It was just another nightmare, you idiot_. 

Feeling embarrassed and irritated, he scans the bright screen.

_**Keonhee** : Hey, I just woke up and was thinking of going to see a movie- wanna join?? _

_**Keonhee** : Sorry if this is too soon, feel free to say no. _

Hwanwoong allows himself another minute of feeling sorry for himself before scooping the collection of mugs from the table and plodding across his flat to drop them in the sink. When he’s back it’s to find another message on the screen.

_**Keonhee** : It’s just not as fun going alone, you know _

Hwanwoong sighs, and stuffs the phone in his back pocket. He tries not to think about how much of a wreck his apartment is (or what that says about him), as he grabs a hoodie and throws himself down flights and flights of stairs. His own voice bounces back at him as he asks Keonhee where to meet him, and then he’s out in the cold, a misleading, too-blue sky above. He shakes and sways a little at the start, but the music blaring through his headphones is enough to keep him conscious until he reaches the small, rundown cinema in the center of town.

Keonhee is waiting for him inside, sporting a pressed shirt and skinny trousers not unlike his school uniform. The tall boy smiles blindingly when he spots Hwanwoong, and waves two tickets in the air. His fair hair is slightly damp, like it has just been washed.

“What are we seeing?” Hwanwoong had told Keonhee to pick the movie before he got there, knowing the small theatre only offers about three options anyway, and nothing worth showing.

To his amusement, Keonhee shrugs. “I just told them to give me the longest one, looks like some old, crappy action movie. Or maybe crime drama?” he squints at the faded tickets.

Hwanwoong laughs “Fine with me.” Keonhee tails him as he orders the hottest coffee safety regulations allow, and then through the dingy corridors. Their screening is- predictably- all but empty, and Keonhee leads them to the back row, throwing himself down in the middle of the huge screen. The lights dip, and the elderly couple near the screen noisily dig out their snacks, and then the blaring sound of sirens and the melodramatic score floods the room. Hwanwoong lets himself relax into them, dark coffee scorching his throat. It’s only half an hour in when Keonhee falls asleep. 

Hwanwoong watches as his head dips. There’s a feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t like, and he turns his eyes back to the movie before the voice in his head can form a proper sentence. Red splashes across the screen with a scream. The movie is as bad as expected, and Hwanwoong’s coffee cup is ripped to shreds in his hands. He scoops them into the cup holder at his side, but without anything to hold, he feels restless. There’s sugar and caffeine in his veins, unanswered torments in his head, darkness all around. His hands tap up and down his legs, itching for a pencil or a brush. Keonhee wouldn’t notice, and the torn card taunts him at the corner of his vision. It's too dark in the cinema to draw anything, though. His mind stays noisy.

Eventually the movie ends, and Hwanwoong watches the elderly couple shuffle out under the rapid stream of names he’d rather never see again. He stretches with a groan. Keonhee hasn’t stirred, and he buffers, feeling awkward. Hwanwoong shakes his shoulder gently.

“Keonhee?”

“Mmh” the reply comes, but after a moment Keonhee squints up at him, frowning.

“You feel asleep.”

The lights come up just as Keonhee flushes scarlet, sitting upright with a sudden lurch that makes him look a little like a giant dancing balloon. “Oh my god- I’m- that’s so embarrassing, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright” Hwanwoong rolls his eyes “you hardly missed anything.” 

Keonhee keeps rubbing his neck and scrunching up his nose, but he drops the subject, and they shuffle outside again. It’s darker now, with thin wispy clouds like smoke blocking out the sun, yet Keonhee somehow persuades Hwanwoong to eat with him and it's another hour until he’s walking home, after a rushed meal where Keonhee pretends not to notice how quiet and unresponsive he’s being, and Hwanwoong tries to make himself feel guilty for it.

When he gets back to his unlit apartment, he collapses onto the sofa, ignoring the mess around him. He can’t quite make himself move to the bed. After a few hours of irritated tossing and turning, he finally falls asleep, only to wake at dawn, aching.  Hwanwoong brings a hand up to his face, and stops. 

There’s something dark smeared across his fingertips. He pushes himself up groggily, seeing more ashy marks up his arms, and staining the sofa where he had been lying. He stands up, quickly, and throws a hand out to stop himself from falling. Paper crumples in his grip. There’s more covering the table, pale pages and scraps flowing to the floor in the light breeze. His breath catches as he straightens, and sees more taped to the wall across from him. They’re on the side of his fridge, caught in the blankets on his bed, tapped above the sofa. Even without seeing any, he knows it’s charcoal. He knows he drew them. 

Dozens of scratchy flowers and smudged archways, moons, river, caves, faceless figures with wings and talons stare back at him. He lowers himself to the sofa. There're occasional huge slashes across the sketches, marking, too, the few glimpses of wall between where the paper flutters. They’re meant to be viewed from a distance, he knows, so that the lines connect. It’s not possible in his tiny apartment, but he knows what they will say. There’s other writing too, he notices, on the pages scattered across the table, smaller and rushed. It’s his notes from the previous morning, repeated over and over again in a hardly legible scrawl. Two words stand out: dream shapes. He had forgotten the term Ravn had used.

Hwanwoong drags himself to the kettle, and splashes cold water on his face before he curls onto the sofa again, pulling his computer closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


End file.
